


Last Orders at The Overwatch

by tullypoems



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Coming Out, Efi has applied for a job (in this AU she is old enough to work in a pub), F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hanging Out, Home Comforts, Pub AU, Winston is very much a gorilla, tiny gay Tracer is gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tullypoems/pseuds/tullypoems
Summary: After completing his training on the literal Moon, Winston opened an ale pub, The Overwatch, which after years in the trade is considered one of the finest in the city. But when a young engineering student named Efi hands in her resumé, everything is about to change...[A Pub AU with lashings of fluff and pretty gentle drama. It's a real life-ish AU, but Winston is absolutely still a fully sapient gorilla.With thanks to @otherwiseestella for beta-ing. My first attempt at a serialised fic, hope you enjoy!]





	1. Being Proactive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otherwiseestella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherwiseestella/gifts).



Before opening, the pub was an odd place. But for the muffled hum of the cellar cooler, there was silence, mid-morning sun lighting the dust, mottling the spirit bottles behind the counter. Despite his several years managing The Overwatch, the feeling of having snuck backstage still surprised him at times, of having gotten away with something joyful. It had taken over his life in the early, precarious days, but today, on a quiet Sunday morning, with nothing but the thrum of traffic outside and the soft, muted machinery from downstairs, Winston had a moment to breathe.

There was a firm, but courteous, knock at the door.

‘We open at twelve-thirty!’ Winston hollered, trying valiantly to remain in the moment.

‘Is that Mister Winston? This is Efi Oladele, I’m answering your advertisement?’

Winston exhaled. Not everyone, given the opportunity and a safe distance, would call him a people-person. But he had been expecting this meeting.

‘It’s not locked!’ He poured himself a coffee from the decrepit machine and parked himself at a table in what he non-committally hoped was a professional posture.

Efi entered and rounded the corner. ‘Good morning, I’m glad you decided-’

There was a half-ton adult male gorilla wearing glasses and a work shirt and blowing on a coffee like naught was amiss.

‘-to meet with me. I’m very interested in working for The Overwatch, and I believe you’ll find me a hard-working, reliable and personable employee.’ She presented a meticulously formatted resumé and maintained steady, but friendly, eye contact.

Winston accepted it. ‘Most people look for a human before giving their spiel to a gorilla.’

‘I believe it is valuable to keep one’s mind alert to possibilities. As a service industry employee-’

Winston held up a large hand. ‘-relax. You’re not running for public office. Take a seat.’ He reviewed her information. ‘You’re eighteen. Given your age I don’t expect you to have experience… says here you have an interest in engineering?’

‘It says I _am_ an engineer. It’s, ah, it’s actually why I came to apply to work at The Overwatch!’ Efi sat up tall in her seat. ‘I got your monogram on quantum electronics for my tenth birthday, then my auntie told me about this place you opened, and I thought what an opportunity this is to learn first-hand from _the_ Winston!’

The gorilla looked wearily over his glasses. ‘You have a commendable interest in somewhat outdated research, Efi Oladele. But as for a proposed apprenticeship, I manage and operate the finest real ale pub in the city. It’s hard to give night classes when you work till midnight.’

‘Yes! Yes, I understand wholeheartedly, sir. I know we will have to do some… juggling of our responsibilities to accommodate our lessons but in the meantime, rest assured I will be the best barista you have ever seen.’

‘That’s – hm, never mind.’ Winston tidied together Efi’s papers and held them out to her. ‘Efi, thank you for coming in today, and genuinely, thank you for having such big dreams. It’s nice to know _someone_ remembers the old days.’

‘You’re… not going to give me a chance!?’

‘You should be applying to university, Oladele. You built your own Guardian Robot using nothing but scrap and a salvaged solder iron.’ Efi blinked, Winston pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘You’re not the only one who does their homework.’

Efi rallied. ‘So then _you_ know what I’m capable of. That Guardian bot is on her fifth interation now, but I can only do so much on my own. _University_ ,’ the word sounded almost distasteful, ‘can teach me how to follow the recipe and suck up to senior staff and write articles no one will read! If I am _lucky_ , I will have a job teaching _other_ people to follow the leader and say yes sir no sir and leave the world as they found it. I want to build things, Mr Winston! _You_ never needed university to be a genius!’

Winston didn’t flinch. ‘That’s not quite how it went, Efi. And a student is not what I advertised for.’ He stood, slowly. ‘Speaking of which, I have kegs that need changing.’

Efi took a breath as he turned towards the cellar. ‘While you’re down there, could you do me a favour please?’

Winston grunted quizzically as Efi rooted around in her backpack.

‘Would you kindly test this? It’s a prototype.’ She stood and handed him a small black box with a clear plastic tube. ‘I did some research on flaws in common carbonated keg models and found their gas efficiency utterly unacceptable and deeply inconsistent between breweries or even individual batches. I designed this – it monitors gas flow and modulates pressure automatically. My estimates suggest it might save £100 a year in gas and probably £500-plus on beer wastage, depending on the product’s value. If you report your findings back to me you can keep it.’

She held the box toward him. She didn’t feel like screaming at all.

Winston took it from her and turned it over between thumb and forefinger. His brow furrowed slightly. ‘Huh.’ He looked back at her. ‘It just attaches to the gas intake, right?’

Efi nodded. ‘I sourced some junk kegs, it should work in theory, but auntie won’t let me experiment at home with compressed gas any more.’

Winston cracked a small smile. ‘Okay.’ He took off his glasses and ran a hand down his face. ‘I’m going to give you a trial shift – ’ Efi’s face lit up. ‘– and I expect you to treat this as an opportunity to learn a trade, not to pester me about former careers. Understood?’

Efi leapt in the air, ‘Yes! Yes, Mister Winston, you won’t regret this. Thank you!’

‘Alright, take it easy now. Come in at 3pm Tuesday, we’ll have you shadowing myself, Lena and Hana. And I’ll order you a couple of workshirts. What size do you take?’

She squared her shoulders and grinned brilliantly. ‘I am a _small_.’

Winston recognised that this was rather a silly question. ‘Right. Bring your bank details and ID. Tuesdays are quiet, so you’ll have time to learn the ropes.’

‘Yes, sir. I can’t wait.’

Winston nodded. ‘Good.’

He cleared his throat. Efi smiled with infectious enthusiasm.

‘You, uh. You can go now.’

‘Oh! Yes. Yes, I have much planning and research to do.’ She hoisted her bag and jogged to the door. ‘Thank you for this opportunity, Mister Winston, you have made an excellent decision.’

‘It’s just – ’ She slammed the door gleefully. ‘ – Winston.’ He grumbled to himself then remembered the small black box in his hand. He weighed it carefully and held it up to the light. ‘Guess we’ll find out.’


	2. Welcome to the Overwatch

The Overwatch was split into two sections. The main bar was where the whisky lived, shelves of oddly shaped bottles kept in stock as much for aesthetics as for business, and the ale taps, in all their porcelain-covered, non-gravity assisted, back-straining glory. On a busy night, one could do some decent cardio dispensing ale alone.

To the side of the main bar was a short set of steps leading into a smaller room, with a couple of snugs, a pool table, and a slightly raised stage for live music. The stage was an heirloom from the previous management, and few patrons (and even fewer managers) had complained about its falling into disuse.

After Efi had completed her city council-mandated admin (what does alcohol do? what does a drunk person look like? can you count to eighteen? congratulations you are bar staff), Winston gave her the VIP tour.

‘For now, all you need to know about is up here.’ Winston waved a hand at the larger of the two rooms. ‘If something runs out or stops working, tell Lena or myself and we’ll deal with it. You’ll have enough to familiarise yourself with, without trying to fit a whole cellar in your mind.’

‘My mind is more than adequately capacious, but your concern is noted.’ Efi was taking notes in a small black notebook. _Cellar: Lena and Mr Winston. Intriguing mysteries._

Winston cleared his throat. ‘Down these stairs – ’ he gestured to the left hand side of the bar ‘ – is the back room, there’s a smaller bar there that Hana will run solo tonight. Doesn’t have as much stock but the folks in here mostly just want a lager and a game of something.’ He rolled a shoulder. ‘Suit themselves.’

 _Back room: ruffians_.

‘What’s that little ledge in the corner?’

‘Huh? Oh. Overwatch used to be part of the traditional music scene round here. Players followed the management, music’s not really my thing.’

‘What, all the musicians just left?’

‘Mmhm. So over here-’

Efi folded her arms. ‘Well that just seems rude.’

‘Yes, well people can be like that. The pool table-’

‘Maybe…’ Efi’s eyes widened, ‘you could get your own musicians! And, and poets! An “open mic” night,’ she gestured the punctuation and evaluated the room, ‘oh, there are so many possibilities.’

‘Efi.’ Winston carefully put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I need you to learn how to empty money from the pool table.’

‘Yes, yes, there is a key behind the bar with a label marked ‘PT’, though jury-rigging the return coin button to empty it manually would be child’s play. It’s absurdly insecure, I’m surprised you don’t get robbed more often!’ Efi beamed.

Winston’s brow furrowed as he inspected the mechanism. ‘Hunh. Well.’ He nudged his glasses back up his nose. ‘Event planning’s not on the agenda for now. I’ll show you the taps.’

Efi jotted _Secret art campaign: phase one: recruitment_.

*             *             *

The three minutes Winston had earmarked for explaining the handpumps (‘You pull ‘em, the beer comes out’) turned into an in-depth seminar on waste control and the merits of gas assistance. Efi had filled several pages of her notebook with new concepts for pint glasses by the time the evening crew came on shift.

‘Heya, big guy!’ A small, spiky-haired woman waved a greeting before stashing her leather bomber jacket and gym bag in a cupboard under the coffee machine. ‘This must be the new lass, eh?’

Winston looked at the clock. ‘Hellfire. Efi, we will have to conclude our discussion later, I haven’t even got near the cellar today. Lena: Efi, Efi: Lena.’

Efi offered a hand. ‘The pleasure is all mine!’

‘Lena Oxton, _h_ atcha service. Love your necklace!’

‘Thank you! My auntie made it. She is _very_ talented.’

Winston cleared his throat. ‘Right, uh, I’ll be back shortly. Lena, you’re okay to keep an eye on things? And have you heard from Hana today?’

‘Yep to question A, nope to question B.’

‘Standard.’ Winston opened the hatch to the cellar behind the bar. ‘Well, could you introduce them both when she does surface?’

‘Aye aye, skipper!’ Lena ripped off a salute as Winston disappeared below deck. ‘So! What brings you to the good ship Overwatch? You a student?’

‘Yes! Well, I will be, once Mr Winston agrees to it.’

Lena rested her elbow on the bar. ‘You’ve lost me, love.’

‘Okay, well.’ Efi inhaled and centred herself. ‘I am an engineer. Much like Mr Winston, in whose footsteps I wish to follow. My auntie has a flat in town and when I learned that _the_ Mr Winston – ’

Lena raised a finger. ‘I’m gunna save you some time, he’s not into being called ‘mister’. He’s just _Winston_.’

‘ _Just_ Winston?’ Efi scoffed. ‘I guess _somebody_ hasn’t renewed her subscription to a range of contemporary science periodicals.’

Lena clenched her chin slightly. ‘Got me there, chief.’

‘Ah, sorry,’ Efi scratched her neck, ‘I’m a little excitable today. This is a very big deal for me. Have you ever met your heroes?’

Lena exhaled deeply. ‘Bit early in the day to get into the deep and meaningfuls, love. Look, Winston might be a genius gorilla scientist from the actual moon and that, but he’s also a person. If whatever mentorship thing you’re after is right for you both, it’ll happen, long as you respect that he’s a regular publican Joe for now. Just take your time, take a breath, let him be him and let you be you.’

Efi cracked a smile. ‘I’m sure that is very good advice Lena, thank you.’ She wrote, in big round jovial letters, _Lena: be kind, be present_. She looked around the empty pub floor. ‘So… we do get customers at some point, right?’

‘Yeah’, shrugged Lena, ‘but we’ve got time before the work-drinks crowd shows up. Speaking of… hello sunshine!’

A young woman in a blue and fluorescent pink hoodie was pushing the door open with her shoulder, drinking straight from a two-litre bottle of Mountain Dew. She wore sunglasses and a scowl that could curdle milk, kill beloved pets and hex your grandmother. ‘Go fuck yourself, Oxton.’

Efi looked at Lena to try and assess the situation, but her demeanour hadn’t changed one iotum. Instead, she strode toward the new woman and scooped her up in a bear hug.

‘ _There’s my widdle Hana-kin Skywalker!!_ ’ She returned her to solid ground but kept both hands firmly on her shoulders. ‘How was the tournament!?’

Hana had kept a rictus grimace throughout this encounter. Efi wondered why she didn’t just tell her friend to leave her alone, if it was so displeasing. ‘Eh. It was fine, I won, woo hoo.’ She took a swig from her bottle and went to hang up her hoodie.

Lena’s scream of joy disturbed a flock of pigeons a block over. ‘Hana, that’s amazing! What did you win!?’

‘Ninety-seven and a half bottles of Mountain Dew.’

‘That’s… specific.’

Hana took a swig of the luminous concoction.

‘Oh Hana.’

‘I am living my best life, Oxton.’

Hana noticed Efi for the first time. She took off her sunglasses and squinted in the intrusive light. ‘Hello, small person. You’re wearing an Overwatch shirt.’

‘Yes!’ She extended a friendly hand. ‘My name is Efi Oladele, I’m an engineer, it is a pleasure to meet another of my colleagues—’

‘Oh god. You’re like _her_.’

‘—pardon?’

Hana pushed her fist around an eye that Efi only just noticed was badly bloodshot. ‘Efi, I am sure yours is a friendship I will grow to treasure and this is the beginning of an emotional journey that will change us both but in the past twenty-four hours I have processed vast quantities of highly stimulating visual information, vaster quantities of highly stimulating chemicals, seventeen minutes sleep, and if I don’t look at a blank wall in silence for the next half hour I shall surely die.’

‘Understood.’ Efi was resolute.

Hana looked at her, brow furrowed, jaw a little slack. ‘Good! Good. I will see you both later.’ She swept off toward the downstairs bar.

‘So that’s Hana…’ Lena grinned.

Efi smiled happily. ‘She is a highly effective person! Though if this is as regular an occurrence as your response seems to suggest I have serious concerns about her long-term health.’

‘Pfffft.’ Lena dismissed the idea with a gesture. ‘She’s nineteen, she can bounce back from anything. I’m not _old_ or whatevs but hangovers are just that wee bit grimmer now. When I was her age I was necking a bag of tins with the lads daily and twice on Sundays with only vindaloo for breakfast and a cheeky Nando’s for tea.’

Efi looked at her searchingly. ‘Yes,’ she suggested.

‘Point is, you gotta enjoy yourself while your body can manage it. _Hana_ ,’ she paused for emphasis, ‘is a pro gamer.’

‘Oh my goodness. How is everyone here so cool?’

‘Right? Anyway, she plays as ‘D.Va’, got a bit of a following on Twitch. Check her out if you’re into shooters or real time strategy. Anything that’s mighty difficult to parse if you’ve less than two hundred hours under your belt.’

‘Noted.’ She noted it in her notebook. _Hana: extremely rad, poor self-care strategies._

From the door, the sound of chatter, footsteps.

‘Alrighty, Efi Oladele, time to work. Watch and learn.’

Lena gave her new pal a nudge on the shoulder and hailed the incomers. ‘Evenin’ Mr Jones! Have I got a pint for _you_!’

*             *             *

After a couple of hours, Efi had stepped up from shadowing Winston and Lena and handled a few orders solo. Then, a lull as the patrons got themselves settled, drank a little slower, smiled a little broader. Winston stepped outside for a quick vape. Until science tested vaporiser technology on gorillas, he could enjoy them guilt-free.

Lena called Efi over to the service hatch, the one spot from which you could see every table in the pub. ‘So,’ she smirked, ‘you ready for _advanced_ training?’

‘Oh my god yes.’ Efi produced her notebook with a flourish.

‘Nah, nah, put that away. You need _all_ your senses ready for this.’ Lena widened her eyes dramatically.

Efi put her notebook on the bar within reaching distance.

‘Take a look around the room, tell me what you see.’ This had a practiced air. Efi wondered how many new starts had heard it, or, how long Lena had been waiting to perform it.

Efi started at the front door, opposite her spot at the bar, and worked counter-clockwise. First, a middle-aged man with a newspaper a mug of Winston’s weapons-grade filter coffee. To the left, under the big windows that looked out onto the street, sat a professional couple; one with blonde hair in a ponytail, the other, larger woman had beads woven into hers. They made little clicking sounds as she laughed at something her partner had said.

Sitting on her own beside the fireplace, a tall, slim woman seemed lost in thought, holding a glass of red wine. The sun had long since set, and the dimmed lights and soft flames made her pale skin look almost blue.

In the corner nearest the bar, a motley group were engaged in what looked like a story-telling contest. An old lady with an eye-patch and hijab held court, and regular gales of laughter threatened to drown out all other conversation in the room. At her side, a gigantic silver-haired man was having a giggling fit. Efi could feel the vibration through her feet when he clapped his hand on the table.

To the right of the bar, Efi could see through to the back room, where Hana was tapping at a handheld device and the pool table was occupied. A short woman with glasses and a hairpin lined up a shot, one eye screwed shut in concentration. A pink-haired giant leant back against the wall, enjoying a neat vodka. In her free hand, the cue looked like a toothpick.

A number of (comparatively) nondescript folks milled around, chatting or playing board games. Where TV sitcoms had taught Efi to expect musical accompaniment to a scene like this, there was only the sound of a dozen conversations overlapping and mingling. She decided she could get used to it.

Efi weighed up her observations. ‘I would say this room is largely consistent with the city’s demographic distribution. To a quite impressive consistency, actually.’

‘Ha!’ Efi wasn’t quite sure what was funny, but Lena’s laugh was infectious. ‘We’re a rainbow town, that’s for sure. Okay kid, now you’re gunna start thinking like bar staff.’ She indicated a table, one Efi hadn’t particularly paid attention to, with a flick of her head. ‘I look at those guys, I start thinking _right, they’re nearly finished their pints, I should get ready for their order._ Looks like they’re on the pale ales, so I start running our list through my head, right? So, by the time they reach here, I don’t even have to think.’

Efi’s hand itched for her notebook. She tried to retain as much as possible. ‘Okay. But two of them are putting their jackets on.’

‘Aha, _but_ leaving their bags behind. They’re off for a ciggie, before the next round arrives.’

‘You are so wise,’ Efi sighed.

‘I swear to you, Efi, that I am just showing off. Okay, take these two characters at the central pillar. What do you see?’ Lena was clearly enjoying this.

Efi was once again irked at not noticing the pair on her first scan of the room. She searched her memory. ‘Gin and tonics. Pickerings and North Berwick, I think. But they’re pretty full?’

‘True! They aren’t going anywhere. They’re also _dun dun dunnnnn_ … having an affair!’

‘What? That is so scandalous! How do you know?’

‘ _Excellent_ question Watson.’ Lena raised an imaginary pipe to her mouth and affected a plummy accent. ‘That pillar is the only spot in the pub that cannot be seen through the window. There are tables free, so discretion is more of a priority than comfort. And look at their body language: when they’re not gazing into each other’s eyes they’re tracking literally everyone who passes. They are _shifty as fuck_.’ She reverted to her normal voice. ‘Watch this.’

Lena took an empty bottle from the bar and dropped it clumsily into the recycling tub. One of the illicit lovers started and spilt her drink over her hand.

‘It’s 7pm on a Tuesday. No one’s _that_ nervous at 7pm on a Tuesday. _And_ , now we know which one’s the cheater.’

Efi had raised her hand to her face. ‘That sucks a lot. Wish there was something we could do.’

Lena scowled and leant both elbows on the bar. ‘Doubt it’d do much good, even if there was. Doesn’t look like they’ve kept the third party in the loop, so the hurt’s already done, and interfering doesn’t _un_ hurt things.’ She perked herself up again, giving the bar a little drum with her fingers. ‘However! We have training to do. You pick a target this time.’

Efi _hmmm_ ed as she scanned the room. ‘How about… the man over there with the newspaper and the dark glasses?’ She conspiratorially indicated a patron in his sixties, white hair, thick biker jacket, sternly studying a broadsheet. ‘He looks kind of incongruous. What do you make of him?’

‘Hrrrmmmmm…’ Lena put a finger to her jaw. ‘Well, he’s only been drinking coffee all evening, he’s not here with anyone, he’s wearing shades at night… I’d say he’s a veteran of a top secret super soldier programme who faked his death, went rogue and now dispenses vigilante justice around the world.’

‘Come on.’

‘Nahh you got me, that’s Jack Morrison, he’s a regular. Here, I’ll introduce you. _Jack, c’mere!_ ’

‘Oh goodness you are so loud.’

The man looked up and gave a little salute, then made his way over to the bar with his paper tucked under one arm, still ferrying his coffee.

‘Evening, Oxton. And good evening to you…’

‘Good evening Mr Morrison! My name is Efi Oladele, and I’m an engineer!’ She offered her hand for maybe the third time that evening. Morrison took it and shook it firmly.

‘Pleasure to meet you Efi Oladele. Some grip you got there. Guess you’re not just on the software side of things.’

‘No, sir! I have a welding kit at my auntie’s house.’

‘Ha! Kid after my own heart. Got yourself a keeper, Oxton.’

Efi beamed. ‘What do you do Mr Morrison?’

He gave an _ah shucks_ little gesture. ‘Mr Morrison was my father, call me Jack. I’m not much of anything nowadays, just a private citizen enjoying his retirement.’

Lena chipped in, ‘No more secret missions saving the innocent from the forces of evil, huh?’

Morrison raised an eyebrow. ‘You know it.’

Efi took a chance. ‘Well, I appreciate all the work you’ve done in your undercover days, Jack. I know you can’t take credit for them publicly, but we know. Thank you.’

‘Heh.’ Morrison’s expression was unreadable behind his glasses. ‘Some imagination you’ve got there, sport. Heh. Thanks for the coffee, as ever, Oxton.’ He left his mug on the bar, along with a tip.

‘In a hurry somewhere?’ Lena asked innocently.

He half-turned. ‘Well sure, but if I told you…’

‘Yeah, yeah, just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Cap.’

He gave another little salute and headed for the exit, drumming his newspaper on his side. A few moments later the angry growl of a motorcycle engine faded into the traffic. Efi slowly turned to face her colleague, remaining extremely calm.

‘…oh my goodness he is actually a spy.’

‘Who, Jack? Nahh, he’s just a cool old guy who’s basically everyone’s dad and who doesn’t think it’s weird that I call him Captain and now that I think about it I have no idea what he does and oh my goodness he is actually a spy.’

There was a pause. Then they both burst out laughing.

‘Having fun?’ Winston inquired from the cellar hatch. He had a keg tucked under one arm like a loaf of bread.

‘Jus’ sharin’ some of the ol’ tricks of the trade, guvna! You ain’t the only one who can do the whole _my-methods-are-unconventional_ mentoring shtick.’ Lena did a decent Winston impression.

Winston knuckled through the hatch. ‘Not a mentor, just the boss.’

‘Oh, sure,’ Lena smirked. ‘ _Wink_ ,’ she added, winking.

Winston rolled his eyes. ‘Efi, go see if Hana needs a spare pair of hands. May as well learn _something_ useful tonight.’

Lena clutched at some imaginary pearls. ‘How very _dare_ you!’

Efi couldn’t stop grinning.

*             *             *

Hana face was like thunder.

‘I was having such a nice time.’

Efi’s brow furrowed. There was definitely a way this could end well. ‘I could observe you quietly?’

Hana looked up from a little handheld game Efi didn’t recognise. There was a farm, and what looked like a monstrously complex inventory system. ‘Tell you what, my dude. You take point for the next while, and I’ll tell you if you do something wrong. Sound good?’

‘I don’t really see how this helps my training.’

‘Efi, I have been working here for literally three months. What I know is that bar work sucks, ninety percent of lager tastes like butt, people are rude no matter how polite you are, and the best way to survive is to preserve your energy. You wanna observe that, please proceed.’

Efi thought about this. ‘I think I understand.’

Hana paused her game. She looked sceptical.

‘My vocation is engineering. Yours is professional gaming. Employment is, for both of us, a matter of expedience.’

Hana shrugged. ‘I mean, you’re not wrong.’

‘Evidently, given your catastrophic attempts at time- and energy-management, you have found a way to devote as much of your resources as possible to what you love, while maintaining the barest façade of professionalism to maintain this lifestyle.’

Hana blinked. From the pool table came the chugging sound of the balls being released. ‘You’re kinda weird, you know that?’

‘Oh.’ Efi studied her hands. ‘I didn’t mean to be.’

Hana waved a hand. ‘Nah, nah, not like, in a _bad_ way. Just… I haven’t heard anyone put it like that. Kinda sweet.’

Efi’s shoulders released. ‘Oh, I am so glad,’ she exhaled. ‘If you like I could help you draw up a sleeping schedule? I have several templates.’

‘You’re on, Effs.’

Efi updated her notebook. _Hana: extremely rad, ~~poor~~ self-care strategies in progress._

They worked in the relative quiet for a while. Occasionally a patron passed through to the unisex toilets to the side of the bar, the two women at the pool table topped up their drinks and continued their game. Efi thought they made a very cute couple.

Then, without apparent warning, the pink-haired lady picked her partner clear off the ground for a kiss. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller.

Hana looked up from her game and smirked. ‘Aw, I’m happy for those two. They’ve been dancing round each other for-’ She looked at the space Efi had, until recently, occupied. ‘Uh.’

She looked down. Efi was down on her haunches, with her head below the level of the bar.

‘What are you doing.’

‘I wanted to give them some privacy.’ She thought about it for a second. ‘This might not be a sustainable policy.’

‘Yeah, no. I mean, it’s not like I have any other bars to compare this place to, but seems like a lot of smooching goes on in The Overwatch. We got some thirsty clientele.’

Efi looked up at her quizzically.

‘Horny. Thirsty is another word for horny.’

‘I see.’ Efi was keeping her composure admirably.

‘It was kind of a play on words, now I think about it.’ Hana held out a hand and helped Efi back to a standing posture.

 ‘I suppose if you’re smooching publicly you’re okay with the staff seeing.’

Hana shrugged and switched her game back on. ‘It’s like getting undressed with a cat in the room. What do cats know?’

‘They seem pretty happy.’ The pair returned their cues to the rack and were making for the exit, hand in hand. Then Efi noticed something.

‘Oh, uh! Excuse me!’ She jogged from behind the bar. The two women turned to look at their pursuer. ‘You have left your drinks unfinished!’ She gestured toward the half-full pint glasses on the side of the table. ‘And your game of pool unfinished.’

The smaller woman fiddled with her glasses and laughed awkwardly. ‘Ahh, yeah, we lost track of time! Have to get moving! Thank you for, uh, letting us know.’

Efi was still looking towards the pool table, and, beyond it, Hana watching on with mock curiosity. The truth blossomed around her suddenly, inexorably, like the walls had come to life and were creeping inwards.

There was no way out. Her cheeks burned.

The pink-haired weightlifter reached out a hand. ‘I am Aleks. And this is Mei. It is good to know this place has finally employed someone with a commitment to professionalism.’ She sent a conspiratorial nod towards the bar. Hana stuck out a tongue in return. ‘And you…?’

‘ _Efi!_ Uh, Efi Oladele. It’s a pleasure to be of service, Miss Aleks.’

‘Tell you what, Efi. You and your friend should finish off our game. I will let the boss know this is happening.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t, that’s… are you sure?’

‘I can be quite persuasive.’

Efi was not entirely sure who would prevail in a confrontation between her mentor and this towering new acquaintance, but she hoped she’d never find out. She turned back to Hana as Mei and Aleks departed.

‘Hana! Wonderful news. We have a free game of pool!’

Hana tilted her head. ‘Efi Tiberius Oladele. Are you advocating shirking off on your very first shift.’

‘You are trying to make fun of me.’ Efi had a pleased look. ‘But I am a quick learner.’

‘I bet. Welp,’ Hana straightened up for the first time in about an hour, stretching her arms above her head, ‘labour law says we’re entitled to half an hour break every eight-hour shift, god knows that ain’t happening.’

‘Radical shirking!’ Efi punched the air.

‘Take your wins where you can get em,’ Hana smiled, racking up the balls.

*             *             *

The final hours of the night passed slowly as groups of professionals took their leave at a sensible school-night hour, leaving a smattering of regulars and lone drinkers coming off late shifts. The white noise of conversation cross-faded into traffic sounds, then the ambient noise of the building itself, electrical buzz, the overhead fan, the hum of unstocked fridges. A few last goodnights, a few of the regulars introducing themselves to the new start, and time was called.

Winston gave Efi a heads up. He tucked the change box and the cash register under one arm as he descended the hatch once more. Efi could’ve sworn he spent more time away from the bar than behind it. ‘Just going to stash this in the safe, then take care of the cellar. If you want a freebie out of the fridge, help yourself.’

Efi gave him a thumbs-up and inspected the fridge. There was an impressive selection of canned beer, each with colourful, complex logos, cartoon scenes suggestive of happy-go-lucky nights out or tattoos she’d seen on the forearms of coffee shop employees. Breweries must be really investing in their graphic designers, she thought. Efi decided to play it safe and took one of the bottles of fancy apple juice.

Hana appeared from the back room and slumped bodily over the bar. ‘This is fine,’ she said.

‘You want some juice?’ Efi offered.

Hana looked up from her prone position. She considered it for a long time then returned her forehead to the cool wooden bar-top.

‘Sorry, zoned out for a bit there. Kinda pictured myself going home, making some coffee and playing video games. Then I remembered I am still here.’

‘Only physically!’ chimed Lena, dramatically emerging from the toilets. She’d changed out of her work clothes and into a colourful button-down shirt and maroon slacks.

‘You look nice!’ Efi exclaimed. ‘Do you have a big date or something?’

Lena gave her some finger guns. ‘Not yet.’ She blew smoke off her finger guns and returned them to their finger holsters. ‘Meeting some pals at the club, see where the night takes me. Speaking of which…’

She carefully closed the hatch to the cellar, set up and knocked back a couple of tequila shots. The whole process was over in seconds. Hana looked on impassively.

‘You don’t get to criticise my lifestyle choices.’

There was no external sign that Lena had even noticed the sudden uptick of alcohol in her system. ‘ _Hana-banana_ , when you are this old and this gay, I will respect your decisions. Until then, listen to your big sister and get some sleep! You look like the weight of the world’s on your shoulders!’

‘Let’s not fight, mom, you’re making things awkward for Efi.’

Efi took a swig of her apple juice. ‘I am not awkward.’

‘ _Fine_ , you two have fun, I am about to paint the town red, orange, yellow, green-’

Hana bonked her head off the bar. ‘ _YOU’RE GAY, I GET IT_.’

‘Heh heh heh! Later my loooooves!!’ Lena cackled as she jogged out the door, slamming it behind her.

There was a brief silence. Through the big front window, Efi watched her new colleague dance off into the night.

‘Lena seems in a good mood.’

Hana propped her chin under a hand. ‘Hmm. Maybe. She’s just had a bit of a breakup. Not one of the fun ones, either. It’s good to see her blow off some steam.’

Efi finished her juice and dropped the bottle in the recycling. ‘I am sorry to hear that. She’s been very kind to me already.’

Hana looked at her quizzically. ‘You did okay tonight?’

Efi considered. ‘Yes, I think so. There’s a lot of new things to learn, of course, but I believe I am up to the challenge.’

Hana cracked a half-smile. ‘Challenge, huh?’ She scratched her chin. ‘Say Efi, do you play… _video games?_ ’

‘ _Do I play video games_. You are looking at the reigning Oladele family _Gears of War_ champion, 2014 to present.’

‘That’s neat. Me and my flatmate live just round the corner.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Feel like _really_ testing your skills?’

‘Yes. Yes I do.’ Hana held up her spare fist. Efi bumped it dutifully. There was a sudden ruckus at the cellar door.

‘ _Did Lena lock the hatch again?_ ’

Hana dragged herself behind the bar and unhooked the latch. ‘She overpowered us, Winston, we did everything we could. It was carnage.’

‘Hunh.’ Winston returned to the surface with surprising grace. ‘If she wants to shots before a night out she could just ask. Imprisonment feels like an overreaction.’

‘So you’d just let her do it, no questions asked? No… _judgmental looks_?’

Winston gave her a judgemental look. ‘Thank you for your work tonight, Hana Song. Consider yourself off-duty. You too, Efi, you did great work tonight. I think you’re going to fit in just fine.’

Efi smiled to herself. ‘Thank you Mr… thank you Winston.’

‘Oh, I checked that regulator prototype – ’

‘Yes?’

‘It, uh, it looks good.’ Winston smiled. ‘How much would you need to make a half-dozen more?’

Efi looked ready to explode. ‘What!? Money!? Pfff, I’d do it for free, of course! It’s a pleasure. Ha ha.’

Winston held up a big, calming hand. ‘Bring me a list of your materials and an estimate for how long it takes to build and we’ll work something out, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Efi was smiling ear to ear.

Hana had already grabbed her oversized hoodie and was hanging off the door. ‘You coming or what?’

‘Right there! Thank you, Winston! See you tomorrow night!’ She grabbed her gear and rushed out the open door.

When they’d left, Winston checked the windows and doors were locked and set the alarm. Sometimes, with the chairs turned upside down on the tables, the lights off and the glassware tucked away, it felt like leaving a huge, happy animal to sleep overnight. He turned the big silver key in the deadbolt and made his three-foot commute to the communal stairwell next door.

In his single-bed flat above the bar he opened his journal. _September 5, 2017. New kid started today. She’s going to be all right. Out of peanut butter, pick some up in the morning._

He slid the moleskin back into its hiding spot, climbed into his hammock above the kitchenette, and turned out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Going to keep this updated as often as I can. I'm still very new to fic writing, so any/all feedback is hugely appreciated. <3
> 
> Thanks to my awesome partner for doing the editing work.x


	3. Sofa So Good

‘Lúúúúúúciiiii! I’m ho-oooooome!!’

Hana barged the door open with one shoulder, holding it for Efi to sneak in behind her. Efi sent a quick text to her auntie saying she was at a friend’s place, including Hana’s address. Hana kicked off her sneakers in a fluid motion, onto a pile of assorted shoes, skates and fuzzy animal slippers.

‘No shoes in the flat?’ Efi asked.

‘Eh, you do you. You hungry? Gunna cook up some noodles. Picante beef, the good stuff.’ Hana was going from door to door in the little flat, sticking her head through each as she went.

Efi was on one knee, untying her shoes. She hadn’t noticed how hungry she was. ‘Oh, that would be divine!’ She placed her white running shoes neatly to the left of the pile. Dried beer clung to the welt and toecap.

‘Comin’ right up.’ She pointed to a door behind Efi, ‘Teevee’s through there, could you set something up?’

There was a huge sheet of A2 paper pinned to the door, almost every square inch plastered in a variety of colours, languages, scripts and levels of crudity. Efi could just about make out a table of figures in the centre, with a capital ‘H’ and ‘L’ at the top of each column. It had long since been obscured by cute doodles of characters from video games, Hana driving a hot pink battlemech, a little man in roller blades, and some things that Efi wasn’t going to dignify. She turned the handle and peeked inside.

‘What game do you want to play!?’ Efi shouted back towards the kitchen.

‘Whatever’s in the machine!’

Efi touched the power button on the dusty console. There was a healthy stack of games around a surprisingly large monitor, given the room’s disarray and relatively spartan furnishings. Compared to the elegant throws and understated prints in her auntie’s house, Hana’s place was outright shabby. Efi took a selfie, thumbs up, with the screen behind her, to make sure her auntie knew she was safe and sound and at the house of someone responsible enough to own a huge television.

As the game booted up, she noticed a post-it note on the edge of the screen. It read ‘off to the gig! don’t wait up’ in green marker, with a little frog drawing in the corner. She peeled it off the TV as Hana pushed the door open with her foot, a steaming bowl in each hand.

Efi held the note up for Hana to read. She scanned it and rolled her eyes. ‘ _Ugh_ why doesn’t he text like a normal person. Here’s your grub.’ She passed Efi a blue ceramic bowl, with a tea-towel to stop her burning her hands. Hana nodded at the screen as she flopped back onto the sofa, propping her bunny slippers onto a well-loved but ill-kempt coffee table. ‘Whadda ya got for me, Oladele,’ she managed through a healthy chunk of noodles.

‘Oh! I didn’t actually check…’ \the game’s bombastic orchestral theme music came through the sound system. ‘OH MY GOODNESS. I play this with my auntie all the time!’

‘Oh yeah? Tell you what, you play a few games, see what level you’re at, I’mma need some quality time with this beef.’

Efi sniffed the air. ‘What is that? Doesn’t smell like normal picante beef.’

Hana pointed with her chopsticks at her eating partner. ‘Good nose. Paprika. Lots of it.’

Efi took a hasty mouthful, making sure to wipe her hands on the teatowel before grabbing the controller, leaving her bowl to cool on the armrest. She flipped through a few menu screens until she found the online matching lobby, trying to ignore the appreciative eating noises emanating from the other side of the sofa. Her eyebrows raised. ‘You are only on level twenty-eight?? You said you were a professional game player!’

‘How very dare you. In my own home.’

Efi grinned. ‘Oh man I haven’t played at this level for _months_! It will be unfair to the other players.’ She thought a moment. ‘Maybe I’ll just play as a healer.’

‘You’re a thoughtful dude, Efi.’

The game made a series of bleeps as it populated the teams. ‘When everyone has fun,’ she replied, ‘everyone wins.’

Hana produced a bottle of green soda from behind the sofa, snapping open the cap with a swift twist. ‘It’s like… you _look_ human, and you _act_ human, but, what are you really.’

Efi glanced over as the hissing subsided. ‘That isn’t refrigerated, Hana!’

‘Refrigeration dulls the flavour.’

‘You _like_ how it tastes?’

‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ She swigged straight from the bottle. ‘Dude, your game’s starting.’

Efi’s look of utter revulsion evaporated as the countdown expired and her team made for the battlefield, emoting as if it was getting wiped in the next update. Efi’s avatar glided along behind them, flitting in and out of cover.

Hannah chewed thoughtfully. ‘So, how’d you end up around here anyway?’

‘The computer picked the map,’ Efi explained, crossing her legs into a half-lotus, ‘It is not my favourite, but I welcome the challenge.’

Hannah waved her chopsticks. ‘Nah, I mean _here_ here, like, why’d you move.’

‘Oh! Uh, my auntie lives here, I wanted a new start, so, here I am.’

‘A new start?’ Hana asked sceptically, ‘You’re younger than me, lil bean! What, you were the head of a juvenile crime syndicate?’

Efi was focused intently on the screen. Her avatar vaulted a barrier toward her team-mates’ calls for healing.

‘ _Cap’n, terrible news,_ ’ Hana affected a 1930s cop voice, ‘ _the Short Squad is terrorising the citizens, there ain’t nuttin we can do. It’s curtains!_ ’

She arrived just in time to give a blast of healing to the team’s tank, their last defence.

‘Look, if you accidentally murdered a wealthy couple and created the Numbani Batman, I promise I won’t tell anyone.’

From the screen, Efi heard, too late, the enemy sniper’s catchphrase. Her avatar crumpled.

‘Ha! You really oughta call your mom to come pick you up, cuz you got schooled, kiddo.’

‘That is not funny!’ Efi snapped. As she turned to face Hana, her elbow knocked the noodles off their perch on the sofa. They wobbled, tipped over and fell, with a dull thud, splattering wetly on the carpet.

‘Oh no, oh no! I am so sorry Hana, I shouldn’t have… but you… I didn’t… aarggh!’ Efi dropped to her knees and tried scooping the food back into the bowl. Her face was a mess of worry, anger, embarrassment. ‘I’ll clean this up, I am sorry.’

Hana hadn’t moved. ‘Uh, what just happened?’

Efi rubbed her eye with the dry back of her hand. ‘I just… I got upset and angry and when I do that I get clumsy. I’m sorry, that was so stupid.’

Hana finished her noodles, wiped her palms. ‘You can see how many stains this carpet has, right.’

‘I thought that was just a nice pattern,’ Efi sniffed.

Hana dropped to her knees beside her. ‘If anything, you’ve just made your mark on the place.’

Efi managed a weak chuckle.

‘And besides,’ Hana shrugged, ‘those noodles cost, like, nothing. I’ll fix you another batch, just, don’t freak out again, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Efi whispered.

‘What’s that? Coulda sworn a mouse said something to me but hey, hard to be sure.’

‘Okay!’ Efi shouted, laughing a little.

‘Woah! There she is. I’ll be back in a second, aright?’

Efi nodded as Hana left, leaving the door open. Efi took a second to catch her breath and finish scooping up the now heavily fur-lined noodles. She stepped out into the doorway, bowl in hand.

Hana and Lúcio’s place was busy, ceiling to floor. Gig posters, shelves with incense sticks, a noticeboard propped against a wall where the screws holding it up had failed. The noticeboard was covered in polaroids in varying degrees of focus. Only a handful were in daylight. As she walked to the open kitchen door, following the waft of cooking and the sound of water boiling, Efi felt like she was walking through someone else’s scrapbook. She still felt embarrassed about the noodle incident, but somehow safe. Feeling lousy in a place like this just seemed… unnecessary. She stuck her head round the kitchen door.

‘Hey.’

‘Oh hey, Efi, nearly ready. How were the spice levels, by the way? Wanna get this right.’

‘Oh! Perfect, thank you. Where’s the bin?’

‘Under the sink’ Hana had flipped on a little portable radio by the cooker, and was bopping from side to side as she stirred the pot. Efi tipped her bowl into the food waste and turned to face Hana.

‘I want to apologise-’

‘Nope, didn’t do anything wrong-’

‘Hana, please, I would like to explain.’

‘And _I_ said, tonight is for noodles and destroying scrubs.’ Efi exhaled. She hadn’t noticed how tense she’d been. ‘Nobody’s at their best this late at night, okay? Me excluded cuz I’m _always_ at my best, obviously.’

‘Okay,’ Efi rolled her eyes with a smile. ‘Just… I’d be really grateful if you didn’t mention my mother in future.’

‘Duly noted. Sorry for setting you off, that was shitty of me.’ She tipped the food into a fresh bowl, then presented it to Efi. ‘Still friends?’

‘Of course,’ she affirmed, feeling a small weight lift off her shoulders.

‘Want to blow shit up in co-op?’

‘Yes I do.’

*             *             *

An hour and some increasingly co-ordinated devastation later, there was the sound of keys rattling in the front door. And, to Hana’s ears, the sound of a couple more footsteps than usual. She held up a hand for silence. Two voices, one giggling sloppily as the other tried to maintain the peace. Hana and Efi’s game drew to a timely conclusion and Hana snuck to the door, cracking it open just a hair.

‘It’s Lúci,’ she whispered back over her shoulder. ‘And he’s with a girl.’

‘Is that unusual?’

Hana made a “so-so” hand gesture.

‘It’s more…’ she searched for the words, ‘a chance to mess with him.’

Efi pursed her lips in thought. ‘It would be unkind for me to participate, and churlish to intervene.’

Hana gave her a thumbs-up and swung the door wide. ‘ _WELL, WELL, WELL, IF IT ISN’T_ oh it’s you.’

‘HANAAAAAAAA!’ came Lena’s high pitched squeal as she launched herself bodily around Hana’s shoulders. Lúcio scratched the back of his head apologetically. ‘Hey Dee.’

‘Lúci.’ Hana acknowledged her roommate.

Lena sniffed. ‘Oh my sweet giddy _aunt_ who’s been cooking paprika in here.’ She gripped Hana by the arms. ‘Was it you. Was it you beautiful sweet Hana Song tell me please where I may find it.’

Hana moved her face away from her gleeful assailant. ‘God, there’s leftovers in the pot, just take your liquor vapours with you.’

‘A QUEEN,’ Lena hollered and galloped away to the kitchen.

Lúcio stood in the empty doorway, smiling hopefully. ‘She needed a place to crash! You know how much a cab costs in tourist season?’

Hana’s arms remained crossed. Efi piped up, ‘Is it okay if I start a new game?’

‘Of course you may, you alone are blameless here.’

Lúcio shrugged and held up his hands. ‘Hey, I was being a good samaritan! How you not seeing this?’

‘Ugh. You’re very sweet, Lúci, but give me a heads up in future, okay? All this?’ she gestured expansively at their living space, ‘mine too. Fair?’

‘Fair.’ He flashed a dazzling grin. ‘I’ll go grab the spare sheets for the sofa-bed. Love ya bunny!’

‘Love you too, hops!’ Hana shouted after him. She slumped heavily back into what was becoming a distinct divot in the couch cushion. ‘He’s in his mid-twenties and I gotta be the mature one. Want a top up?’ She wiggled a fresh bottle of soda. Efi wasn’t sure where she kept pulling them from.

‘One was quite enough, thank you,’ Efi observed queasily.

Lena entered, eating. ‘Hana, you are a noodle legend. A professor of noodology.’

‘You’re welcome, just-’

‘Mayor of Noo-Delhi,’ said Efi, helpfully.

‘Noodles aren’t even Indian-’

‘The very model of a modern noodle general!’ Lena slurred, squeezing herself in between Efi and Hana.

‘…’

‘…’

‘Noodstrodamus.’

Efi and Lena cracked up. Hana screamed into a cushion, which she hurled towards the door as Lúcio entered, missing his nose by inches.

‘Y’all been punning at Hana?’

‘ _God_ , yes, make them stop,’ she groaned.

‘ _Without me!?_ ’ Lúcio dropped the bed linen for an impromptu victory dance as Efi and Lena cheered.

‘This is how I die, then.’ Hana sighed.

Lúcio perched on the back of the sofa as Efi shifted onto the armrest to make room. ‘How was your evening, Lena?' she asked. 'Did you cover the town in rainbows?’

Lena carefully put down her bowl and mimed astonishment. ‘My good golly gosh, miss, here’s you casting aspersions like no tomorrow.’ She produced a bus ticket from her back pocket with a flourish.

Efi glanced away from the screen for a second. ‘I thought you tried to find a taxi?’

‘Pffftt, good’un,’ Lena chuckled, ‘it reads, ahem-hem, _the pleasure was all mine_ , some numbers, something not for immature listeners-’

‘We are the same age,’ Lúcio interjected.

‘-didn’t mention age, guvna. _Yours, Emily_. A pretty successful night if I don’t say so my own self.’ She was practically singing.

‘That’s wonderful news, Lena!’ Efi smiled.

‘Pretty swift work, Oxton,’ Hana added with grudging respect.

‘ _But wait, what’s this??_ ’ Lena clapped both hands to her cheeks, then reached for a different pocket.

‘No…!’ Lúcio leaned over her shoulder to incredulously inspect a second note, a napkin this time. ‘It’s purple… lipstick? This one’s just a number. From _Amélie_. She French?’

Lena waggled her eyebrows. ‘ _Oui oui_.’

Lúcio held up a hand. Lena reached over her head for a clumsy and somewhat undignified hi-five.

‘Hold on,’ asked Efi, 'Emily and Amélie? Really?'

Lena shrugged expressively. 'Funny ol' world.'

‘But which one are you going to ask on a date?’

‘'Fraid I don’t accept the premise of your question, love.’

Efi turned this over in her head a second. It clicked. ‘Oh my goodness, Lena. That is so daring! But… won’t they be upset when they find out?’

‘I mean, I’ll let them both know up front, obviously,’ Lena shrugged. ‘This ain’t an episode of _Cheers_ , love.’

‘Man, that show woulda been way better with more polyamorous queer folk,’ said Lúcio, chin on his fist.

‘Fact o’ life, mate,’ Lena nodded.

‘Well, that is very mature of you.’ Efi looked to her side. ‘I am only partly aware of how complicated a relationship can be. Imagine managing two at once!’

Lúcio giggled. ‘If Lena was Ted Danson she’d say something like _what’s the worst that could happen!?_ and the laugh track would kick in.’

‘Haha, yeah.’

The tv screen bleeped and banged merrily through the silence.

‘Well I’m beat,’ Lúcio said, stretching his arms above his head. ‘Busy gig tonight, _and_ we’ve got a Halloween party to plan.’

‘But it’s August,’ Efi protested.

‘You underestimate how seriously we take our sacred holiday,’ explained Hana.

‘You coming?’

‘I guess so? It is still months away!’

‘Never too early to start planning, love.’

‘Well then, I will definitely come along! Goodnight Lúcio!’

He pulled the door behind him. ‘Night Efi! Hey bunny, don’t stay up too late, you got work tomorrow!’

‘I know, frogmom!!’

‘You guys are so sweet.’

Hana stuck out her tongue and pulled at her lower eyelid. ‘ _Ugh_ he’s right, I should let you guys sleep.’ She pushed herself off the couch with a groan. ‘You know where the bathroom is?’

‘Straight at the end of the hall, Banana, this ain’t my first rodeo.’

‘You’re not gunna be so chipper when that hangover hits, Oxton.’

‘Thank you for hosting me, Hana,’ Efi called as Hana left. ‘And for being so kind!’

‘You’re all good, Efi,’ she said, giving a little mock salute. ‘Sweet dreams.’

Lena was already laying her blankets on the floor. Efi stifled a yawn. ‘That looks so uncomfortable, Lena, don’t you want the sofa?’

‘Nah, I’ve slept on worse. ‘Sides, you were here first!’

‘You are so kind. Everyone is so kind.’

Lena propped herself up on an elbow. ‘You okay, kiddo?’

Efi thought for a moment. ‘How are you so confident all the time?’

‘Ha! Well, darlin’, I’ll let you in on a secret if you keep it to yourself, thanking you kindly.’

Efi mimed zipping her mouth.

‘I’m anxious, like, _all the time_.’

Efi giggled as she pulled up her duvet. ‘You are so funny, too. No wonder you are such a hit!’

‘Seriously! Look, dropping the mask here, straight up Lena chat. I don’t think anyone’s totally cool with everything _all_ the time. You just… learn how to manage yourself.’

Efi rolled over to look at her. ‘But you seem so clear about what you want?’

‘You’re lucky I’ve had half a skinful, love, else I likely wouldn’t be saying all this. Think I’m just good at… winging it. Y’know? Like having good reflexes, but with life stuff.’

‘Moving city is the biggest thing I have ever winged,’ said Efi, flopping onto her back. ‘Though I am not sure if knowing other people are working it out as they go is reassuring.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Lena yawned expansively, ‘least we’re in the same boat, eh? You watch my back, an’ I’ve got yours.’

Efi smiled at the ceiling. ‘Thank you. That means a lot.’

‘…’

‘Lena?’

Only the hum of the building’s electricity and steady breathing from the floor.

‘Good night, Lena.’

She reached for the lightswitch, and flipped it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @otherwiseestella for doing the beta work. All my love <3
> 
> The next chapter is gunna be a Halloween party. stay tuned y'all :D


	4. Masks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Here's the Halloween chapter, just in time for xmas -__-* Thanks to my wonderful partner for edits.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, and thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Tx

Efi dropped the change into the tip jar and bade a good morning to the coffee vendor, her breath wisping in the cool morning air.

Her walk to work, with only a few tactical diversions, went right through the park, where the large horse chestnuts leaves were starting to turn to gold, russet, clay. Since her shift started just a shade before noon, there were significantly more dog-walkers than commuters, and Efi stopped to pet a couple of her repeat favourites, exchange some pleasantries with their humans. Today, a chilly Friday with the beginnings of a bite in the wind, there were two dalmations, a mini schnauzer, a rescued lurcher. She checked her watch as she got to the top of the hill that gave the pub its name. A few minutes late, but not so many that her boss would notice.

She inhaled the coffee dregs from her Overwatch-branded Keep Cup and rapped the wrought iron knocker on the pub’s front door. Over the years the knocker had worn a concavity into the wood underneath it. The door itself was weatherbeaten and slightly rounded at the edges, a friendly face for the deadbolt and locks that kept the building secure. From inside, she heard Winston’s growling request for patience.

After a couple of soft grunts the door shuddered open.

‘Apologies for the wait,’ he huffed. ‘When there’s moisture in the air the thing sticks. Vexing.’

Efi shouldered off her heavy coat. ‘I could rig-up a dehumidifier if you would like?’

‘Hm. Yes, we could run it overnight. It’d have to be economical for it to be worthwhile, though.’

‘I will think it over.’

Winston grunted his assent and cleared his throat as Efi hung up her things. ‘So. You have been here a few months now, you’re about ready to pass your probationary period-’

Efi turned round. ‘I had a probationary period?’

‘Hmm? Oh. Well, yes, every new employee does. Hana’d just finished hers when you started. Anyway, everything’s in order! That’s not what I’m talking about.’ He knuckled round the bar and opened the hatch to the basement. ‘We operate a pretty small team here, so everyone pulls their weight, so it’s time you learned how to manage a cellar.’ He sighed this last part, like he was explaining to the shelves why they needed occasional dusting.

Efi clapped her hands in front of her heart. ‘ _REALLY?_ ’

Winston was taken aback. ‘Uh, yes? Just follow me, and don’t touch anything you don’t know how to fix.’

Efi gave him a look.

‘Just…’ Winston sighed. ‘Don’t touch anything until I say so.’

He grappled down the hatch. Efi followed, carefully footing her way down the ladder’s steep rungs. She turned and took it all in.

To a casual observer, the cellar was a nondescript, squat, whitewashed stone room with an assortment of casks and kegs in varying states of repair, a series of store-bought tubes snaking into the ceiling, a damp floor with circles of dried beer like rings from a giant’s coffee mug.

To Efi, it was _possibility_. She immediately began eying up the use of space in the room: could the casks be stacked? No, that would make them difficult to remove. Stored horizontally? Possibly, but that increased the risk of leakage. Wouldn’t it make sense for the heavier kegs to be closer to the delivery trapdoor? Sure, but that would take them further away from the cooler fans. It dawned on Efi that this room was, despite the obviously slipshod attitude to regular floor-scrubbing, already perfect.

‘Hm, Efi?’ Winston clicked his fingers. ‘You still with me?’

‘This room has been perfectly optimised, Mr Winston.’

‘Just Winston,’ said Winston, absently. ‘Thank you, it’s the benefit of having time for trial and error. Now. Do you have your bearings? It can be a little disorienting.’

‘The delivery trapdoor is at the front of the building,’ Efi pointed, ‘so that would make the kegs directly beneath the bar, and…’ she screwed up one eye, ‘the boxes of soft drinks and wine are underneath the pool table.’

‘Oh, good, right.’ Undeterred, he ambled over to the kegs. ‘So these are all pressurised, so you have to be very careful when you swap them over or perform maintenance on the couplings. The different models all detach differently, so-’

‘The gas is not switched on, though.’

Winston checked over his shoulder. He exhaled. He knew there was something he forgot this morning.

‘Hm. Very well, this should make the next lesson very simple. Here,’ he indicated one of the smaller kegs, a thirty-litre strawberry lambic, ‘detach this as if you were going to wash the coupler.’

Efi smirked. Finally, a chance to set hours of YouTube tutorials into action. She examined the fitting. A basic Sankey: squeeze the handle to release the mechanism, a ninety-degree clockwise twist. A piece of cake, as Lena would put it.

She squeezed the handle, and, in an instant, there was a loud hiss, a spray of liquid, and the overpowering taste of strawberry. Efi gasped a breath and looked at her sodden workshirt, then, open-mouthed, at her boss. He was doubled over laughing, every tooth bared, one hand on the wall for support.

‘You betrayed me!’ she squeaked.

Winston wiped an eye. ‘No, no, this is definitely a learning opportunity,’ he managed, between spasms of laughter.

‘My hair is sticky!!’

Winston held up a hand. ‘Okay, okay, that was mean of me. But seriously,’ he began gather himself handing Efi a clean beer towel, ‘the first thing to know about the cellar is that beer is a living thing, and it _hates_ you. There’s always some gas trapped in a keg, even when the switch is off, or there’s a cask that explodes because the brewers have put in too many hops without letting it breathe. You let your guard down and it’ll get you.’

‘That was not the beer’s fault, _Winston_ , you played a prank on me!’

‘Yes, okay, you got me.’ He carefully re-fitted the coupler. ‘I’ll make it up to you. Listen to this, my favourite part of the morning.’

Efi stopped towelling down her hair for a second. Winston put his hand on the main gas switch, a little black handle set into the wall. He closed his eyes and shunted it from vertical to horizontal.

The whole corner of the room burst into life. There was a long, loud hiss of exhalation as the gas travelled through the mess of pipes into a dozen kegs, a wall of white noise, a soft crinkling as the plastic kegs repressurized, the clicks of the gas monitors finding their levels. It was as if the whole cellar had been holding its breath and released it. If her hair hadn’t been matted to her scalp by flavoured Belgian yeast, it might have stood on end.

‘Ahh, you were right, that was very nice,’ she smiled. ‘Would you mind if I made an audio recording some day?’

Winston chuckled. ‘We’ll see. Not if you’re going to take a pint in the face every time you change a keg.’

Efi lobbed the soggy towel at him. ‘I am going to change.’ She rifled through a cardboard box full of workshirts by the door. ‘Oh! Have you thought of a costume for Lena’s Halloween party? It’s a week from today!’

Winston squinted at her. ‘You have observed that I’m a half-ton gorilla, correct?’

Efi cocked her head a little. ‘And that means you cannot dress up?’

‘Hm.’ He scratched under an arm. ‘Guess I’ve been coasting on that for a while,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ll throw something together. How about you?’

‘Auntie and I are making a costume!’

‘That’s kind of her.’ Winston responded, distracted. He was surveying the room, mentally noting the work the cellar still required before opening.

‘Oh, she does not know yet,’ Efi called through the hatch. ‘Back in a second!’

When Efi returned a minute later, Winston was stacking empty casks under the trap-door. He noticed her return and ducked back inside, grabbing a set of keys from a hook on the wall.

‘Now you’re a little more presentable, there’s just one more point of business before we get to work in earnest. Here.’ He held out the keys towards her, and Efi took them. ‘These are yours. Guard them with your life.

Efi blinked. ‘Are these…?’

‘Keys to the kingdom, yes.’ Winston smiled. ‘I’ve been running The Overwatch for a number of years now. One starts to get a sixth sense about who’s only here until the next thing shows up, and who wants to learn a trade.’

‘Two trades,’ Efi suggested.

‘That’s… first things first, Efi.’ He waved a hand to get back on track. ‘You’re still relatively new, I admit, and yes, myself and Lena still have plenty to teach you. But I think you’re more than capable. You’ll have a few more responsibilities, _slightly_ better pay, and a say in how we run things.’

Efi bounced on her toes in excitement. ‘Oh my goodness, I have _so_ many ideas!!’

Winston frowned. ‘Uh, good. Glad to hear it. I take it that’s a yes?’

‘Yes! Yes it is!’

‘That’s a relief. The keys are engraved already. Hard to un-engrave them.’

Efi checked the keyring. There was a small metal tag, and in neat capitals, E. OLADELE. She felt a little tug at her heart. ‘Oh,’ she breathed.

‘Uh, are you alright?’ Winston offered. He held out a hand to her shoulder. Efi gave it a little squeeze in return.

‘I am fine, thank you,’ she nodded. ‘This is good. I am good.’

Winston visibly relaxed. ‘Okay. I’ll get your paperwork in order. So!’ He clapped his hands together briskly. ‘The deck only gets scrubbed on special occasions, so let’s make a proper introduction to the pressure-cleaner.’

Efi appraised the floor’s complex network of stains.

This was going to be a good day.

*             *             *

It had been a week since Efi learned the basics of cellar-care, and around forty-five minutes since her auntie had been informed of her role in the night’s festivities.

‘Remind me what it is that I am stitching.’

‘What _we_ are stitching. This is a team effort, Auntie’

‘Efi Oladele, you have much to learn about the fair allocation of labour.’

Her aunt’s kitchen table had been cleared of its usual array of mugs, commemorative placemats, a small cohort of condiments. In their place, a red t-shirt and track bottoms, an assembly of yellow, red and green swatches of cloth, needles and thread, a bobbin or two. Efi’s laptop gently played an online radio station, a patchwork-coloured cat dozed in a puddle of setting sunlight by the window. Efi held the shirt up to her chin.

‘Remember I was asking you about the spirits? Well, I designed a superhero outfit in keeping with orisa art motifs. It’s Riri Williams’ Ironheart suit if she was from Numbani!’

‘Well, _that_ explains a thing or two. And will this Riri Williams be wanting her suit back once I have finished making it?’

‘ _Auntie_. She is a superhero. A fiercely independent teenage engineering prodigy who built her own robot suit and fights crime.’ She tapped on the laptop keyboard as she explained, before spinning it round to show the first page of google image results.

Auntie cackled and raised an eyebrow. ‘And Efi,’ she affected an interviewer’s speech pattern, ‘what was it that first drew you to this fiercely independent teenage engineering prodigy?’

‘ _Auntieee!_ ’ Efi pouted.

‘Your legions of fans demand answers,’ she insisted, reaching an invisible microphone towards her.

Efi jumped off her chair and pulled her home-made Ironheart helmet over her face. It fit imperfectly, like a rumpled luchador mask. ‘I have no time for the foolishness of the gutter press,’ she intoned, ‘Furthermore, I require soda to fuel my heroic endeavours.’ She set off, fist outstretched, making rocket noises, to the fridge.

‘I swear on my life you never liked that junk before.’

Efi shrugged, lifting the helmet to take a swig from the bright green bottle. ‘It grows on you.’

‘Efi, use a glass, darling.’

‘But I’m the only one who drinks it!’

Auntie turned in her chair to give Efi a look.

‘Although we may disagree on the particulars, I will concede your point on this occasion.’ She took a glass from the cupboard.

‘The magnanimity,’ Auntie drawled as her niece returned to the table. She reached over to turn on a lamp, the glow of autumn sun finally dipping under the flats opposite. ‘So, at what time shall I expect your return? Or shall you be checking in at Hotel Song once again?’

Efi inspected the costume’s leggings. ‘I am not sure! This is the first time everyone has had the same night off since I started. It is kind of a big deal.’

Auntie finished stitching a yellow patch onto a sleeve. ‘I should hope it is a big deal,’ she huffed, ‘After the punishment these fingers have taken. I may never play piano again.’

‘I would say it will be difficult for you to perform basic daily tasks from now on, Auntie.’

‘They should amputate, if only to be on the safe side.’

Efi finally cracked. ‘I love you, Auntie. Thank you for helping me.’ She skirted round the table for a bear hug.

Auntie squeezed her right back. ‘Ohh, of course it’s a pleasure, my darling Efi. Let me know what your plans are, okay?’

‘I will.’ Efi gathered her suit into a backpack and headed for the door. ‘Enjoy _Bake Off!_ Tell Orisa goodnight for me!’

‘You call tell her yourself!’ Auntie cried at the empty hallway. At her name, Orisa hopped from the windowsill into Auntie’s lap, meowing as she curled into a satisfied little ball.

‘Oh, _now_ you wake up, Miss Oriss. Well, you might as well join me.’ She picked her up as she headed toward the living room, a warm sofa and a wholesome evening of competitive baking.

*             *             *

Efi hit the intercom button outside Hotel Song. The speaker clicked, the door buzzed open. From the foot of the stairwell, however, she could sense a disturbance.

‘ _LÚCI! WHERE IS MY SNIPER RIFLE!?_ ’

It had taken a few months of regular contact, but Efi felt confident she could identify examples of Hana acting under the effects of external stressors. She pushed open the front door to a scene of total chaos. The bathroom light was on, the taps in the bath running. From the hallway, she could smell ammonia and peroxide. The floor was lined with piles of clothes, some of which were flying out of Hana’s room in bundles. Something percussive and bass-heavy filled the space.

Efi took a deep breath and headed for the living room.

‘Hey Effs!’ smiled the frog on the couch. ‘Ready to party?’

‘Yes I _am_ , Lúcio. My costume is ready, I have some party snacks for collective enjoyment, and I have prepared some topics of conversation should the need arise.’

‘Man, there are so many different ways to party. You good for drinks?’

Efi joined him on the armrest. ‘I am fine, thank you. I will maybe have something when I get there, I think. More importantly, how can you see through that thing?’

Lúcio flipped open the visor, the ‘mouth’ of the frog-head he was wearing. ‘Ehh, vision isn’t the problem, it’s the heat. Sweating like a pig in here!’ He sounded delighted. ‘Just streaming some _Warcraft_. Say hi, everyone!’

Efi glanced at the tv for the first time. There was a camera on top of the screen, and beside Lúcio’s character, a sidebar, rapidly scrolling as dozens of people offered their salutations. Efi leapt out of shot like the sofa was lava.

‘Why didn’t you tell me I was on the internet??’ she hissed.

‘Ahh sorry Efi, my bad. Would you like to say hello?’

Efi scratched her arm. ‘Are they… you know?’

‘I mean, it’s the internet, but yeah, we run a tight ship.’ He looked straight into the camera. ‘If y’all say _one solitary word_ outta line, I give the mods the banhammer, okay?’

Efi smiled. She leaned back into shot and held up a hand. Hearts and smileys cascaded down the chat. She cautiously resumed her perch on the edge of the sofa.

‘What are you playing, anyway?’

‘You’ll like this,’ Lúcio grinned, ‘I’m doing a run on _Warcraft_ … where I don’t hurt _anybody_.’

‘Oh, cool! Like Griffin McElroy’s Peacecraft run.’

‘I… what?’

‘He walked from one side of the world to the other without doing a single hit.’

‘Hey chat, did you know about this?’

Laugh emojis descended.

‘I’m real disappointed in you, chat.’ He placed the controller solemnly on the coffee table. ‘Aright, we’ll figure out a better thing to do next time, maybe that level one _Morrowind_ run I keep threatening to drop on you! I’m gunna get ready for Halloween, hope y’all are doing the same! Peace!’

Efi just caught a minor deluge of waves and _bai_ s from the chat window before the whole setup went dark. Lúcio turned his frog head, giving her his full attention for the first time. ‘Damn, your get-up is unreal! What are you, an orixá?’

‘A _super_ orisha!’ Efi beamed. ‘Gosh, I was worried I would have to explain it to everyone.’

Lúcio plopped his fuzzy green slippers on the coffee table. They were webbed. ‘Yeah, my mom’s mom was a witch or something, she taught us _all_ about that stuff. My favourite was Legba, guy had some _moves_!’ Lúcio was popping his shoulders to the beat emanating from Hana’s bedroom.

Efi sighed, leaning her head back on the wall behind the sofa. ‘It is so nice that someone else in this city knows my people’s culture. There is an unsettling density of white men with nasty dreadlocks.’

‘Don’t get me started, sister. Hey, _speaking_ of your people, I heard there’s a great electronica scene in Numbani, got any recommendations?’

Efi snorted. ‘Ha! Sure, once _you_ recommend _me_ some quantum physicists.’

There was a pause. ‘Efi, this mask has, like, _no_ peripheral vision so I’m missing out on some vital body language.’

‘Oh! Apologies. I mean that my taste in pop music is about as good as your microprocessor design.’

Lúcio turned his entire torso round indignantly. ‘Hey! I am a legit sound engineer, I can design processors! Probably!’

Efi raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh! Oh. This means _war_! Arm yourself!’ Lucio threw a stuffed bunny rabbit at Efi, who caught it deftly.

‘What?’ Efi made a show of innocence. ‘All I am saying is that robotics is a vocation! It’s wonderful that you are dabbling in the higher sciences!’

Lúcio grabbed his stuffed frog. ‘Hopsy, let’s break it down!’

They used the toys to simulate a martial arts fight scene, complete with home-made foley artistry. Devastation stalked the living room as they did sick wall runs and flips and stuff.

Then Hana walked in.

‘What in the name of our dark lord are you knuckleheads doing, on this, his unholy day.’

Efi turned to her friend from her prone position in front of the television, holding the bunny toy in a fly-kick pose. Hana’s freshly dyed hair cascaded down the back of her jumpsuit in a blaze of dark purple. In her hands, a series of cardboard tubes had been artfully rendered into a perfect sniper rifle. Efi’s jaw fell open and all higher brain function ceased.

It was very confusing.

‘I said, what the junk are you doing to Flopsy.’

Hana was talking.

‘Uhhh…’

Lúcio flipped open his visor. ‘Ahh, that’s my bad,’ he said, with a sideways glance at his incapacitated foe, ‘We were having a very important anime battle about whether music is better than science.’

Hana looked at him the way one might look at a puppy who has torn up a newspaper and brought you the remnants as a gift. She snatched Flopsy out of Efi’s hand. ‘I expect this from him, but I thought you were the sensible one,’ she added with a little smirk. Heat flooded Efi’s ears.

Hana made for the door, turning at the last moment. ‘Recon in oh-fifteen hours, dinguses,’ she ordered, flipping down a homemade sniper visor. She slammed the door.

Efi exhaled and flopped bonelessly onto her back. Lúcio noticed. ‘You okay, bro? Kinda zoned out on me for a bit.’

‘I will be fine, I think.’

Lúcio nodded sagely. ‘Uh huh. Anything you want to… talk about?’

‘What do you mean?’

He shrugged. ‘Okay! Nothing, I guess. Hey, I got some fancy soda from the store if you don’t have your party drinks sorted?’

‘That is so kind, Lúcio, thank you. I will just get my things together and meet you in a moment.’

She heard the door closing behind him, and picked herself up into a cross-legged position while she turned over some new data in her mind.

*             *             *

Efi collected herself enough on the walk over to chatter enthusiastically about the craftsmanship of Hana’s cosplay, before exchanging strategies on how to best play the character, both in-game and irl. By the time the three of them arrived, the party was turned up to eleven. Efi felt the muscles in her neck and shoulders tense. Seconds later, Hana and Lúcio were summoned away from her, all noisy greetings and extravagant embraces.

The hall was crowded, music thumped out of one of the bedrooms, cackling laughter rose here and there. Mostly on instinct, Efi sidled her way through a forest of elbows towards the kitchen; you never needed to justify being in the kitchen. Through a doorway she spotted Winston sitting cross-legged in a corner, wearing what looked like a pith helmet, deep in conversation. She lifted an experimental hand in greeting, to no avail.

The kitchen was no less busy. Where the table was not covered in a plurality of bottles of all shapes, sizes and potency, it was being used as make-shift seating. Efi made a silent prayer to the spirit of robust engineering. She finally, blessedly, made it to the fridge, squeezing the handle to open it.

It was full. She caught, with a dextrousness that surprised herself, a falling bottle of local lager.

‘Excellent hands, young one,’ came a velvety voice at her side. Efi turned.

‘Ms Amari! I did not see you there.’ Efi took in her costume: a baggy white shirt with string ties around the collar, a tricorn hat and a plastic cutlass. A plush parrot toy was taped to her shoulder, the whole ensemble at odds with the purposeful calm she exuded.

‘No? Well, you should have kept an _eye_ out!!’ Reinhardt interjected, laughing bodily at his own wit, slapping his thigh with a vigor that Efi could feel through the floorboards. She noticed that his parrot had long since abandoned ship.

‘Please, _Ms_ Amari is my daughter. Call me Ana, darling. And ignore him,’ Ana smirked, playfully pushing at the huge old man’s face, ‘two weissbiers and he loses all perspective.’

Reinhardt’s eye lit up.

He pointed at his eyepatch. ‘I think you’ll find…’

‘Oh god no.’

‘I lost all perspective a long time ago!!’ Conversations in a twenty foot radius suddenly halted in the concussive force of his mirth.

‘It is good to see you both,’ Efi said, rubbing the ringing out of her ear, ‘I am not always at my best at these things.’

‘I understand.’ Ana daintily raised her mug. ‘I will be by the kettle if you require some herbal refreshment and adult conversation, dear.’ She glanced at her husband, who was repeating his jokes to an unimpressed man in a viking helmet. ‘Relatively adult.’

Efi smiled. She felt a presence at her shoulder.

‘Lemme get that for ya, love!’ Lena produced a bottle opener and cracked the cap off Efi’s beer with a flourish. ‘God _damn_ I am a professional.’ She was wearing a sprinter’s outfit with ‘69’ in glittery numerals stapled to the tank top.

‘Oh! Um, I’m not really drinking tonight…’

Lena slapped her forehead dramatically. ‘Bleh. My mistake, darling. Tell you what, I’ll drink that one,’ Efi handed over the bottle gratefully, ‘and we’ll say no more about it, eh?’

‘You are a generous soul, Lena Oxton.’

She waved the two beers. ‘Hey, I got two hands, right?’ she explained, exploding with laughter. Efi scanned the comment for humour, her eyes narrowing gently. She came up blank.

‘Oh. Oh!’ Lena’s expression transformed, turning from surprise to concern to delight in a thrice. Efi hadn’t been in the business long, but she knew a happy drunk when she saw one. She smiled despite her confusion. Her friend was having a _lovely_ time. ‘Stay right here,’ Lena held up her hands, like a magician preparing a dramatic reveal, then hurried off to another room.

Efi opened the fridge again, carefully this time, and extracted a ginger beer. Lena had left her opener on the kitchen counter, and Efi experimentally popped the cap with the same motion her friend had. The cap obliged. Efi grinned to herself. She turned around, but there was no sign of her friend.

Carrying her ginger beer into the hall, her view into each of the rooms was obscured by clumps of people deep in conversation. For a second she forgot which door was the exit. She tapped her fingertips and focused on her breath. She could do this. She counted five rooms, including the kitchen; she had at least five friends at the party, if she included Ms Amari – Ana, that is; the odds were good that whatever room she entered would be a safe one.

She realised she was being watched.

A woman in a floor-length cocktail dress was perched immaculately on an ottoman in the hall, head slightly cocked, pensive. Her expression was inscrutable.

Efi raised a hand in greeting, surprised at her own bravery in holding her gaze.

The woman mirrored the gesture, and Efi walked over. The casual perfection of her posture almost brought her up to Efi’s height. It was then that Efi noticed she was wearing a set of industrial-strength ear protectors. The blue highlights on the plastic matched her dress perfectly.

‘Your ear protectors match your dress perfectly!’

The woman removed them, resting them on her shoulders. ‘Thank you, I chose them for that very reason,’ she stated. She considered Efi’s outfit. ‘You are a manner of orisa spirit, I see. Orixá, possibly. There are many pantheons.’

‘Yes! My auntie helped with the construction. You are… hmm.’ Efi looked for clues. Her new acquaintance did not have a hair out of place, her make-up immaculately understated. A complicated-looking wristwatch was the only incongruity. ‘A… spy?’

Perhaps Efi only imagined her expression lightening. ‘I did not know this was a costume party. A friend told me I ought to dress up, but I fear I have misinterpreted. Satya Vaswani.’ She raised her hand in a repeat of her earlier gesture. ‘It is customary to shake the hand of a new acquaintance, but I would prefer not to.’

‘Efi Oladele. And that is perfectly fine! The gesture is appreciated.’ Efi drummed her fingers on her ginger beer thoughtfully. ‘So… how do you know Lena?’

‘We met at group therapy. She was very kind to me, and we remained friends afterwards.’ Satya paused, her expression breaking into something like concern. ‘You seem uncomfortable. Perhaps Lena has not spoken to you of me, or of our group.’

‘Oh. Yes, I was…’ Efi’s heart felt suddenly heavy, and she took a seat beside Satya on the vacant part of the ottoman. ‘What kind of therapy was it?’

Satya adjusted her posture and hummed in thought. ‘While I have found peace with this period of my life, I cannot and should not speak for Lena. It was a mistake to bring it up so lightly. I apologise,’ she winced.

Satya had slightly bunched part of her dress in one hand. Efi glanced away momentarily. ‘Parties are hard!’ she shrugged, smiling. ‘Usually I end up talking about my cat for twenty minutes consecutively.’

Satya glanced round at her, eyebrows raised, meeting Efi’s eyes again. ‘You have a cat?’

‘Yes! Her name is Orisa – like me tonight! Ha!’ Satya’s lips curled upward, just a little. ‘Here, she is very handsome, I will show you.’ Efi produced her phone from her pocket, scrolled through her pictures. A fuzzy calico in a variety of postures of repose, many in extreme close-up.

After a running commentary of about twenty consecutive minutes, Satya handed Efi her phone and stood up.

‘There is access to the roof terrace from the main stairwell. I think I could do with a few moments’ quiet. Thank you, Efi. That was precisely what I needed.’ Satya extended her hand. Efi took it, feeling her squeeze it, ever so slightly. Satya exhaled and smiled. ‘I hope to see you later.’

‘Me too! It has been lovely to make your acquaintance.’

‘You work at Lena’s public house, do you not?’ Satya asked, holding open the front door.

‘Yes!’ Efi nodded, ‘but really I am a scientist. An engineer.’

Satya nodded in agreement. ‘Me too.’ She closed the door behind her. Efi stretched her arms and legs out with a small hum of satisfaction.  Maybe she had solved the puzzle of socialising. The warm sensation in her chest, the feeling that she could lift mountains, even talk to strangers without feeling like she was encountering a weird alien culture: the quiet feeling of success.

‘EFI, christ, there you are. How do you get lost in a flat with five rooms!? Anyway, I’ve a couple of fine folks for you to meet!’ Lena gestured with both arms at the women flanking her on either side. ‘Efi, meet Emily and Amélie.’ She snorted cheerfully. ‘I’m never gunna get tired of that.’

Emily tucked a lock of ruby-red hair behind her ear, adjusting her pointed black hat in the process. Amélie was absently attempting to light a cigarette in her mouth, but the lighter seemed to be out of gas. She patted down her velvet waistcoat and turned to Lena, apparently unaware of the introduction in which she was participating. ‘Chérie, do you have a spare…’ she mimed the necessary object with her thumb, ‘thing?’

‘Nah, love, I quit this summer.’

Amélie’s shrug was almost imperceptible. ‘Bouf. I will go find my fellow addicts on the roof.’

Efi sprang into action. Satya’s quiet space could not be compromised, never mind how handsome and oddly reminiscent of Hana’s cosplay was the disturbance. ‘Miss Amélie! I have one right here.’

She fished around in one of her trouser pockets and produced a dusty green plastic lighter. It had seen better days.

‘Ah, merci.’ She lit her cigarette swiftly and gave a little bow and salute as she handed back. ‘Amélie LaCroix.’

‘Efi Oladele.’

‘Lena Oxton,’ hollered Lena, looking thoroughly impressed with herself.

‘Actually, Amélie,’ Emily suggested, ‘I could murder a bit of fresh air, care to chaperone?’

Amélie gestured her assent, and Emily gave Lena a little peck on the cheek as she left. Efi felt a little defeated in her quest, though perhaps the slight delay was enough. Her thoughts were interrupted by a full-body exhalation at her side. Lena’s ears were bright red.

‘Aren’t they the best?’ Lena sighed, somewhat rhetorically.

Efi successfully acknowledged the lack of necessity of a sincere response. ‘How did you meet?’

‘Oh, they were pals already, there’s a pretty active poly community in town, just a couple of swipes right and bob’s your uncle.’

‘I see.’ She did not see.

‘I’m the jammiest bastard on legs, Efs, no two ways about it.’

Efi decided that some things just weren’t meant to be interpreted. There was an itch at the back of her mind, though. A worry which pressed little heavy claws around her heart.

‘Lena, may I ask you something?’

‘Fire at will.’

‘You obviously are attracted to women.’

Lena barked a laugh. ‘Guilty as charged, guvna.’ She sat down beside Efi on the ottoman, folded one long leg over the other.

‘So…’ Efi’s shoulders hunched, just a little. ‘How did you, you know… figure it out?’

In her gentle inebriation, Lena did a substandard job of hiding her surprise. ‘Oh. Oh! Ehh… god I dunno, things just sort of, turned out that way, petal.’

Efi looked uncomforted.

Lena rubbed an eye and blinked away her distractions. She put a hand softly on Efi’s shoulder. ‘Talk to me, love. I’m all ears.’

Efi sighed and bonked her head gently on the wall. ‘I do not know if there is much to talk about. Maybe it is nothing, simply the excitement of making a new friend.’

Lena glanced over into the living room, where Hana and Lúcio were bopping away to something upbeat and K-poppy. It clicked. She turned back to Efi, folding her legs underneath her into a half-lotus.

‘Hm. Well, it’s different for everyone, right?’ She waved a hand, as if conducting a distant orchestra. Efi tuned in to her every word. ‘And like, telling the real stuff from stray hormones is tough regardless, never mind when there’s these weird ringfences around who’s allowed to be shaggable. Pardon my French.’

Efi smirked. ‘Peu m’importe.’

Lena wagged a finger. ‘Mental note: French lessons. But look,’ she recovered her sisterly tone, ‘you’re like, barely out of the wrapper,’ – Efi feigned indignation at this, which Lena shushed with a hand – ‘and you’ll eventually figure out a thing that works for you, even if other folk have a harder time with it. And if you ever, _ever_ want a chinwag, I’m here for you, pal, just like my elders were here for me. S’how it goes, innit.’

Efi nodded silently, a distant look in her eyes.

‘Want a squeeze, love?’

Efi chuckled and nodded vigorously, holding out her arms. Lena gave her a bear hug, rubbing her back and giving her hair a ruffle.

Efi relaxed significantly, leaning slightly into Lena’s shoulder. ‘It seems silly, does it not? That such an ordinary thing should be such a big deal. I feel like… _who cares_ , but I also know that a lot of people care, and a lot of people have suffered for this ordinary thing.’

Lena nodded expansively. ‘Yeah, I remember thinking all that. Then I formed a riot grrl band and took up zine-making.’

Efi laughed. ‘I like zines.’

‘Well, I’ll put you on the mailing list. You’re a good’un, Efi. And I’m proud of you, for whatever that’s worth.’

‘Thank you, Lena.’ She exhaled and settled herself. ‘You are a good one too.’

Lena returned her smile, then slapped her thighs and stood. ‘Right, well, this _is_ a party, and I’m kind of the life of it, so two things: I’m going to make sure the folk on the roof terrace are having a jolly old time up there, and you’re gunna go dance with your mates.’

‘Is that an order?’

‘Dang skippy it is.’

Efi gave a little salute and headed towards the living room. Hana spotted her as she entered, and raised both arms in celebration.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she inquired, after a hearty whoop.

Efi shrugged. ‘Getting my fill of excitement before I found you two jerks.’

Lúcio gave an incredulous _ohhhhhh_ to egg on his friends. Hana punched him on the shoulder, right on the beat.

‘Well I’m glad you made it in time for _my_ part of the playlist. Gunna share some moves with us?’

‘Oh god,’ Efi groaned. ‘My moves are atrocious. Please look elsewhere.’

Lúcio added some sympathetic gestures into his dancing. ‘This is a judgement free zone!’

‘Speak for yourself!’ Hana retorted, smiling at Efi, who was starting to feel her way into the rhythm. The song faded out and a new one began, going naught to a hundred in seconds.

‘Your outfit is amazing!’ Efi yelled over the music.

‘So’s yours!’ Hana shouted back. ‘Hey, you want a gaming sesh when we get home? I’ll make up the sofa bed?’

Efi’s smile lit the room. ‘Yes!’ she squealed, pumping her fists in the air.

*             *             *

A few minutes later, auntie’s phone blipped. Orisa stirred and stretched her way off the duvet as auntie paused the tv and unplugged her phone from the charger. She checked the message and nodded approvingly.

‘Well, guess it’s just you and me,’ she said to the frozen image of Sue Perkins.

She topped up her wine, snuggled deeper into the sofa, and hit play.


End file.
